“You.”
“And whose pussy is this?” I press the heel of my hand into her pussy.
“Yours,” she breathes.
“Good girl. Now come for me.”
I shove another finger inside her and thrust, in and out, over and over until her knees start to buckle. I hold her up and make her come all over my hand. Her wetness drips down my wrist, but I don’t stop. Even when she cries out and her body goes limp, I don’t stop.
I thrust hard, deeper, faster, until I feel the wetness swell up and release again. The orgasm tears through her body in a violent storm of waves before she nearly collapses.
Then I step out of the shower.
“You have thirty minutes,” I say. “You better hurry.”
52
AMARA
There’s nothing like going from being wet in every meaning of the word in a shower at the mercy of a man trying to teach you a lesson, to sitting at a fancy restaurant in a dress that’s too tight, with a ponytail that’s also too tight, watching a Bratvapakhaneat his weight in caviar.
I cross my legs under the table and Ransome puts his hand on my thigh. He slides it up a little. I slide it down. And so it goes.
“Amara, those earrings are lovely,” Ransome’s mother compliments me from across the table. I don’t really know why we are here having this midday seafood lunch. No one is talking, save for his mother, who is just staring at me looking for some way to make this less awkward.
“Thank you. Ransome got them for me.”
“Of course he did.” She smiles at him.
“Making good use of family money, I see,” Anton mutters. Ransome’s hand tightens on my thigh.
“I learn from the best.” He nods at the mountain of caviar that probably cost more than the earrings did.
“Well, I think these lunches are lovely,” his mom goes on. “It’s nice to just have a family meal free of business talk and?—”
“Dmitry is pressing on the agreement, son,” Anton cuts in.
Ransome stiffens. His mom reaches for her drink.
Baron, who is sitting on the other side of Ransome, holds face as always. Though he does keep glancing out the window.
“I never agreed to the arrangement and have no need for it,” Ransome says.
“It doesn’t work that way,” Anton says. “The Chadovichs are very fickle people.”
“Speaking of that, I swear I can hear engines,” Baron says with an uncomfortable laugh. Both his and Mav’s necks crane to see out the window.
“It doesn’t matter what you need, son. It’s not about you. It’s about family.”
“Is it though? Because the last time I checked, it was about money.”
“That is definitely a revving engine,” Baron says, and Mav stands up.
The engines get louder, loud enough to drown out the fighting between Ransome and his dad. Meanwhile, Baron looks worried.
“Uncle,” he says, pushing away from the table. His voice sounds urgent.
The arguing halts.
